Finally, after losing a whole day of your life,
You are hovering over the fair green isle –
Squares and squares of different shades of green –
From up here you could tell where the grass is greener.
It’s so beautiful. You’ve never really noticed it before.
As the wheels bounce off the runway you tell yourself you will appreciate every second.
A second might not seem long, but sometimes it’s forever –
Before, each second dragged as the Aussie dream refused to come nearer,
And now seconds fly as your family live on in your absence.

 You’re prepared for how bloody cold it will be –
Hats and scarves at the ready –
Isn’t that why you left in the first place – because of the bitter cold?
You’d be forgiven for being bitter
For being fed the lie
That having a good Leaving Cert was the key to a good future
And that your performance would define you for the rest of your life.
As you walk through the airport, shocked at the Irish signs,
You’re also shocked to see your childhood neighbour sauntering beside you in Customs.
Ah, we Irish stick together, even in flight,
Showing solidarity in escaping a life of misery and monotony.

 And now, back in your hometown
You feel like a celebrity
Being stopped in your tracks by those you went to school with,
Worked with for a while,
got drunk with every Saturday night.
It always was the same old  story –
And for some, the tale remains the same.
Giddy with excitement and faint disappointment,
You hardly can decide what to do first.
You stuff yourself with Tayto and Barry’s tea,
The familiar tastes leaving an odd cramp in your stomach. 

Feeling the joy of seeing your loved ones,
You wonder why every day can’t be like this,
But no-one bothers to tell you that
You’ve forgotten to take off your rose-tinted glasses.
Behind the smiles and the warm embraces
Everything is the same as it ever was, and will ever be –

Those who love you have continued to do so in your absence
But your fair country refuses to drag itself out of depression
Like a feisty school kid is pulled out of bed on a frosty morning.
Rent in Perth and Tullamore are nearly on a par,
And the streets are lined with people who are ‘wealthy’
But can barely afford to live.
Old Tom still drinks in the same pub on a Thursday night,
And those who stayed behind in pursuit of their pot of gold
Ended up with a bucket of coal.

And when they ask whether you’d come back,
You purse your lips and smile and say simply: ‘Some day.’
Some day when Ireland becomes sexy and alluring
And rewards young people for a good day’s work.
Some day when you’re allowed to have big dreams
And not clipped around the ear for ‘having notions’.
Some day when having fun is not tied up with being obliterated.
When being ‘home’ makes your heart soar higher than being away.

But that day is not today.

And so your heart breaks as you stuff your life back into your suitcase,
Trying to ignore the glistening tears
Falling from the eyes around you.
And knowing that it’s the right thing to do
Makes goodbye ever slightly easier on everyone.
‘Sure we’ll see each other again, and sure can’t you come over?
You’ll be sick of me Skyping you – sure you won’t miss me at all!’
And other such little comforts.

 And as the green plane takes off into the darkness
Searching once more for the light
You’re proud of what you’ve accomplished
And that you were brave enough
To leave behind this little island
In search of something spectacular –
And not to worry, dear – dreary, dependable old Ireland
Will be the very same when you get back again –
But somehow, you’ll have changed-
All grown up, and just a little bit wiser.